TN: And we're back! sorry for the week long hiatus, it was not intentional since I had to get my right leg in a cast after tripping 3 floors down a stairwell (like an idiot ://) and be unable to use my PC setup upstairs BUT I should be OK now.
Anyways, Thanks for Arcanic Madness, WeissAkumu and WolfWTF for becoming as Supporters!,
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The chainaxe roared as it tore apart the last serpent creature, blood and shredded flesh spraying from the wound, sending the Khorne daemon into peals of manic laughter.
It had been suppressed for far too long. This Space Marine had ignored it completely, locking it inside that damned box. Today's battle, though the enemies were weak, at least allowed it to drink deeply of blood.
The only disappointment was that these mortals, corrupted and twisted by Slaanesh, possessed pitifully weak souls. It had devoured many during the fight, yet gained little satisfaction.
Still, that was better than rotting in darkness. Inferior blood was still blood—spilled in battle, or in slaughter.
Poor flavor was better than nothing.
Ignis pinned the last serpent under his boot. Its claws had been severed; it could no longer resist. Yet its shrill wailing continued, and the burning rage in his chest found little release in such meager vengeance.
He raised the thunder hammer to his chest and let it fall naturally, gravity alone crushing the creature's skull.
The surroundings resembled a charnel house. Blood soaked the ground; broken limbs, spilled organs, and shattered corpses lay piled together. Most grotesque was the colossal flesh-beast's corpse. Even in death, it resembled a rotting mountain of meat. Some muscle fibers still twitched, pumping out thick streams of blood.
The damned daemon shrieked within his mind. Deprived too long of slaughter, the servant of the Blood God was nearly mad.
"Not enough! These are not true daemons of Slaanesh!" it howled. "False creations! Cheap souls! Find me worthy prey! Too weak! Too weak!"
"Only the heads of the strong prove your worth! Unleash your rage—kill more!"
"Those Public Security officers are useless! Had they been competent, this would already be over! Slay them—make them pay!"
Ignis forced himself to ignore the ranting and returned his focus to reality. Gotthardt's Dreadnought chassis was drenched in blood. The creatures born of Slaanesh cultists bled an unnatural violet-red, and the sight disturbed him.
Worse, the blood released a strange fragrance into the air. His power armor's systems continuously flashed warnings: Environmental Contamination.
"Young brother, is that all of them?" the ancient warrior from the 30K era asked, puzzled. "They were not impressive…"
To such a veteran, this battle had scarcely been more than a diversion. The enemies were fragile, tactically inept, lacking heavy firepower—pathetically weak compared to foes he had faced.
Yet these weak enemies had nearly overwhelmed New Eridu's law enforcement.
"No. Certainly not." Ignis surveyed the slaughter. "The true master has not appeared. These were mere guards. The real enemy remains hidden."
"Very well. Waiting grows dull," Gotthardt replied, maintaining vigilance.
Ignis approached the officers who had held the doorway. They had endured much. Two serpents had charged them while stunned, causing casualties.
Two officers had fallen. The rest bore wounds of varying severity. Nearly all enforcement robots and equipment were destroyed. The injured made do with limited medical supplies—bandages and splints only.
They were law enforcement, not a professional military. Their weapons and resources were limited. Suitable for criminals—ill-suited for Slaanesh cultists and their grotesque mutations.
No one blamed him. No one vented anger at him. They were too busy. The silence unsettled the Son of Vulkan. He felt Zhu Yuan needed heavier weapons.
If only I had killed faster…
"Yes! Faster! You are too weak!"
The Khorne daemon seized upon the thought.
"Embrace the Blood God! He will grant you endless strength. Mortal flesh is frail—accept his blessing and gain perfection!"
"Brass from the Blood God will rebuild you! Become his champion! Seek vengeance! Spread justice! Destroy all enemies!"
"Slaanesh's vermin will grovel beneath you—then you may take their heads!"
The incessant prattle disgusted him. He now understood why the Imperium exorcised daemon weapons before assigning them. These things never stopped whispering. One moment of mental weakness—and they would drag you into damnation.
Castellan Crowe of the Grey Knights had endured the Black Blade's corruption for hours while battling U'zuhl the Skulltaker…
"Ignis." Zhu Yuan's voice broke his thoughts. "Now I understand the danger you spoke of…"
"How many casualties?"
"Eight," Qingyi answered as she approached. "Without your friend, it would have been worse."
The android officer's condition was dire. A perforating wound pierced her abdomen, cables exposed, sparks flickering. If not for her cylindrical limbs lacking simulated muscle, the sight would have been grotesque.
"The children?" Ignis sighed. For a first encounter with such monsters, they had done well.
"Not good," Zhu Yuan said, frowning. "External injuries, starvation, dehydration. We shared our supplies, but it's insufficient. The good news is we're not inside a Hollow. Helicopters are en route."
"It's unimaginable what they endured," Qingyi added. "Even after we broke in, they feared our uniforms."
"Their captors wore Public Security uniforms," Zhu Yuan said quietly. The children's distrust hurt more than facing monsters.
"Headquarters has ordered retired uniforms destroyed and serial numbers archived," Qingyi reassured her.
Ignis worried more about Emile Volt. Today's events had begun with the young artist.
"Any sign of Emile?"
Zhu Yuan shook her head. "No."
"According to the older children, those who attempted the escape vanished," Qingyi said. "Emile Volt, as the instigator, was taken first. No one knows where."
As expected, Slaanesh's Champion had yet to appear. Emile had been taken. Slaanesh adored artists—no doubt some command had been given.
To be noticed by a Chaos God was ill fortune indeed.
"You seek it? Good. Embrace the Blood God! He will send hounds to aid you. They will relish the hunt."
"Take its head—offer it to the Blood God!"
"But such hounds require sacrifice. The souls around you are weak—but acceptable. Come! Take their heads! Offer them to the Lord of the Brass Throne!"
The chainaxe began revving on its own, startling nearby officers. Ignis gathered psychic will and suppressed the daemon, forcing it into sullen quiet.
"Report, Chief Zhu Yuan—the door to the basement is open." Seth Lowell saluted. He bore several new wounds, mostly superficial. "However…"
"Something wrong?" Zhu Yuan felt a headache forming.
"The door was destroyed. Mr. Cerakos broke through it when we stalled." Seth looked uncertain. "Will the bodycam record be acceptable?"
"Do not worry. Today's records far outweigh such details," Qingyi said, turning to Ignis. "Will you join us below?"
Truthfully, Ignis did not wish to go. He could guess what awaited—storage for raw materials, chambers for experiments and surgery, perhaps rooms for sacrifice or depravity, much like what he had seen in that garden before.
Yet sending only them risked corruption. Slaanesh excelled at exploiting fear and rage.
The team descending was Qingyi, Ignis, and Cerakos. Zhu Yuan would coordinate above. Gotthardt, the strongest present, would remain for emergencies.
"I can smell blood already," Cerakos muttered upon entering the shattered doorway. "And… plants."
"Temperature is low," Qingyi observed, tasting the air. "Refrigeration?"
Ignis advanced first with his flamer. The corridor was narrow, cold lights flickering overhead. His towering form nearly filled the passage. Many rooms were too small for him to enter.
Through Fire-Sight, he saw only cold darkness—no heat signatures. No one had been here for some time. Though Warp sorcery might conceal traces, would it be used on every visitor? Did Slaanesh's Champion command such power?
Qingyi opened a door. Even the long-lived AI was stunned.
It resembled a slaughterhouse. Surgical tables drenched in blood. Floors splattered. Sterile scalpels lay scattered, filthy with dried stains.
The Criminal Investigation Special Response Team officer picked one up, tasted the residue.
"At least seven days old. Type AB blood."
"You can do that?" Cerakos blinked.
"Sample analysis is basic functionality," Qingyi replied calmly, replacing the blade. "Did you find anything?"
"No signs of activity," Ignis said. "No living presence remains. Send your personnel to collect evidence. I will return upstairs."
Emile was not here. Ignis felt grim certainty. He knew what Slaanesh dens contained—grotesque art crafted from human remains, narcotics, depraved amusements.
He had seen it before. Let New Eridu's officers witness it now. Let their bodycams record everything.
A handful of Space Marines could not handle this alone. The city must awaken to the threat of Chaos.
He emerged from the basement as officers descended into the cold abyss. Some might suffer trauma—but the truth had to be recorded. Otherwise, the upper echelons would never grasp the severity of Chaos.
By the time Ignis returned outside, the remaining children had been evacuated to the field through cooperation between the Cunning Hares and Public Security.
He heard the helicopters approaching. Rescue was imminent.
It seemed over. The children were freed—at terrible cost. The facade of the so-called Saint Love Behavioral Correction School was shattered. Officers had faced the servants of a Dark God and captured vital records.
Yet Ignis's headache worsened. The true culprit—Slaanesh's Champion—remained at large.
It had taken Emile Volt.
Rage flared again. Hatred boiled.
Suddenly, Ignis noticed a shirtless boy. Upon his chest was the corrupted sigil of Slaanesh.
The instant he recognized it, pink-violet mist rose from the corpses carpeting the ground, enveloping the scene.
"Greetings, Son of Vulkan… and stubborn Son of Dorn, and finally a Son of Sanguinius." A sweet, sultry female voice echoed, melting bone.
"Welcome to my gallery of art." The voice shifted to a shrill, grating male tone.
"Are you looking for him?" The female voice whispered from directly behind the Son of Vulkan.
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